Shadow Man
by xenascully
Summary: Written for JP (see note inside). The boys go to Oklahoma to figure out how a man's heart vanished from inside his body. They encounter something they've never dealt with before. *Appearance by Jody Mills *
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Written for Jared Padalecki, in accordance with his response to my question at Toronto Con 2011, "If you could commission a fanfiction writer to write any kind of story (for Supernatural), no matter how bizarre or ridiculous, what would you request?"**

**The response: "Maybe something like The Shadow Man, from The Twilight Zone."**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. **

**Shadow Man**

**1**

"E-du-di?" a young boy called, in his grandparents' native tongue, to his sleeping grandfather. The old man stirred, head turning toward the small voice.

"Yes, Raj? What is it?"

Raj felt guilty, as he was supposed to be looking after his sick grandfather while his mother was out getting his medicine. "I need to use the bathroom."

The old man narrowed his eyes at his grandson. "Well, go on, then. I'm not so ill that I need a sitter, you know. Your mother, she worries too much."

"I worry, too, E-du-di," he replied, sincerely.

"You are too young to worry about such things," he replied, unable to hold in a fit of coughing. Raj stood quickly from his chair and was at his grandfather's bedside, clutching the old man's arm through the spell. "I am alright, Raj," he said, catching his breath. "Go to the bathroom, before you have an accident."

Raj's face switched from worried to offended, in a split second. "I'm nine years old! I haven't had an accident since I was little!"

The old man couldn't help but to laugh. "You are right. You are growing up faster than your old grandfather can keep track of. Nonetheless, off you go!" He watched Raj's face neutralize, before he scampered out of the room rather quickly. He smiled, proud of the boy. His older grandchildren had always been rebellious, turning away from their Cherokee roots that he'd always wanted to keep strong within his family. Raj was an exception; such a good boy, always minding his parents, and genuinely interested in the ways of his ancestors. The boy's mother was the same, in that aspect. Though there were some things he wished she hadn't put in Raj's head at this age. One of those things being the sense of over-protectiveness.

He adjusted himself a bit more comfortably on the bed, intending to fall back to sleep. But just as he was ready to close his eyes, he was hit with the sudden feeling that someone was in the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure and quickly turned his head to see who it was. But there was nothing there...

Raj flushed the toilet using his elbow and went to the sink to wash up. Though he was in a hurry to get back to his grandfather's side, he couldn't fight the compulsion to thoroughly wash his hands. Upon turning off the faucet, Raj felt the tingling of goosebumps form on his arm and watched as they rose up on his skin. An eerie feeling came over him, and he rushed to dry his hands and head back toward the room.

The house was quiet, as he made his way up the dim hallway. He'd expected to hear the soft snoring of his grandfather, at least. His little body hummed with anxiety, not really understanding why. But it made him move slowly; cautiously. And once he reached the doorway to his grandfather's room, he suddenly knew what his senses had been trying to warn him of.

What he didn't quite comprehend, in that moment, was _why_.

Raj stood, frozen both physically and mentally, as he watched the life leave his grandfather...

**Tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

"Dude," Dean said behind his brother, who was hunched over the sink in their tiny motel bathroom. "I think they're clean, already." Sam had been washing his hands for at least five minutes, now.

"You have no idea the stuff I touched in that trash can, Dean," he retorted, unamused. Dean chuckled, turning toward his bed. "It was your turn to dumpster-dive, too," Sam added. "You owe me."

"It was _not_ my turn," Dean retorted, flopping down on the bed closest to the door, remote in hand. "I don't know how you even keep track of that stuff," he mumbled.

"Because I did it _last_ time," his voice rose a bit, once the TV came on. "I cut my arm open on the stupid latch when I climbed back out. It got infected, remember?" there was a bit of bite to his tone.

"Oh yeah," Dean glanced over as the water turned off, and watched Sam come into the room with a towel in his hands.

"So I repeat; you owe me."

"I'll buy you breakfast," he gave a toothy smile.

"No," Sam raised his brows. "I get to call in a favor."

"Favor?" Dean furrowed his brow. "So you took a garbage bullet _one time_, and now you get a favor?"

"It was worth more than breakfast," Sam replied, replacing the towel on its rack. "I don't value pie the same way you do," he smirked.

"Fine. But nothing stupid," he said, pointedly. "It has to be of equal or lesser value, or no deal."

"Next two garbage searches are yours, and don't count as the favor," Sam said as he grabbed the newspaper that sat on the end of Dean's bed, and plopped down on his own.

"Wait...wouldn't that just make us even?"

"Not unless they end up as big a pain in the ass as the last two were."

"Okay," Dean got a satisfied look on his face.

"No cheating!" Sam suspiciously added.

"Me? Cheat? C'mon, Sammy. You know me."

"Yeah. I do."

Dean grinned and went back to flipping channels, as Sam flipped open the newspaper, clearly finished with the conversation. Dean glanced over at him, just to make sure the younger brother wasn't actually pissed at him. Sam's relaxed face confirmed that he hadn't really been seriously upset. Relieved, Dean looked back to the screen. "Oo!" he exclaimed upon changing the channel. "Three's Company!" he smiled over at Sam, who ignored him in favor of something in the paper. Dean chose not to be offended, and turned his attention, yet again, to the screen.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam spoke, and Dean chose to ignore him in return. "I think I found something." Sam looked to his brother whose eyes were fixed on the television. The level of concentration on the older brother's face had Sam glancing to the screen to see what was so important. Annoyed that Dean was obviously distracted by Chrissy's bouncing, over-inflated chest, Sam huffed out a breath. "Ya know...I heard Janet was actually played by a man."

Dean turned his head, wide-eyed, "Are you kidding me? That's a load of-" he stopped, mid-sentence, seeing Sam's grin. "You're such a bitch."

"You're a jerk!" Sam retorted. "You were ignoring me."

"You started it."

"No I... Would you just listen for a second? I said I think I found something."

Dean turned his gaze back to the screen. "Unless it's a strip club that serves three kinds of pie, I'm not interested."

"Dean-"

"I mean it, Sam!" he interrupted. "We just finished up with a case. I'm tired, sore, and need a freakin' day off."

"Okay," Sam replied, brows raised as he released the newspaper to fall onto the mattress beside him.

"Okay?" Dean looked at him incredulously, shocked that he'd let it go so easily.

"Yeah. Okay, sure. We'll just take a day off; ignore the fact that innocent people are dying," he said, passively.

"Innocent people are always dying, Sam. Can't save 'em all."

"You're right. We can't. So we'll just take the day off. What's a few more poor old people dying gonna hurt..."

"Old people?" Dean question, quirking a brow. "That's your case? Seriously, Sam, c'mon. Nothin' supernatural about a senior citizen clockin' out."

"No, there's not. Not really," Sam conceded. "Unless their heart winds up missing out of their chest. No exit wound or any other indication of why it would be missing."

Dean met his eyes, curious, yet annoyed at the same time. "Damnit," he resigned with a sigh. "Where?"

Tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Previously...**_

"_No, there's not. Not really," Sam conceded. "Unless their heart winds up missing out of their chest. No exit wound or any other indication of why it would be missing."_

_ Dean met his eyes, curious, yet annoyed at the same time. "Damnit," he resigned with a sigh. "Where?"_

_**Now...**_

Sam glanced down at the paper, successfully holding back a smug grin, and skimmed the article once more for a specific location. Upon finding it, he quirked a brow; smirking knowingly at the name he knew Dean would react to. He looked at at his brother. "Hooker, Oklahoma."

Dean smiled, just as Sam had predicted. "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?" Sam let out a small laugh and shook his head.

.

The brothers set out early, escaping a majority of the Texas and Oklahoma heat. The drive was just four hours, with Dean at the wheel. They ended up at a small, family-owned hotel, which sat across the road from a diesel and grain equity exchange; huge silos towering into the sky, making the hotel look like dollhouse furniture.

"We're paid up for the week," Dean told Sam, as he swung his bag on the bed closest to the door. "So even if we finish this gig today, we're stayin' put that long. Even if killer tomatoes start popping up a hundred miles from here."

Sam's brows rose as he glanced up from his bag, to his brother. "Really?"

Dean looked at him defensively, "What? It came on TV sometime in the middle of the night. Gave me weird dreams..." he resumed unpacking.

"Right. I'm gonna go change and head down to the morgue."

"We just got here," Dean all but whined.

"So what? Was there something you needed to do before getting started on this?" he asked, suit in hand as he paused his journey toward the bathroom, waiting for a reply. "Were you gonna try and figure out how this city got its name?" he cocked his head.

Dean mocked a shocked face, "N-no..."

"Well then come on, man. There's a reason we didn't take a day off, remember?"

"God, you're damned bossy lately, ya know that?" Dean gruffly mumbled, as he searched his bag for his own suit.

"I'm not bossy!"

"Bitchy, too."

"You're a freaking jerk," he pushed into the bathroom and nearly slammed the door behind him. Dean just smiled and shook his head.

**3**

"Drs. Emmett Quincy and..._Rooster_ Cogburn?" the younger man working the front desk looked up at Sam and Dean, from the ID's they'd handed over. Sam tensed a bit, nudging Dean in the side. They'd had a slight disagreement in the car before their arrival, over this very thing.

"With the CDC, yes, Sir," Dean said, without hesitation. The way Dean casually nodded with an easy smile, the man at the desk seemed to move past the names. Sam was amazed at his brother's luck. Annoyed, but still amazed.

"Are we in danger?" the man asked, leaning forward a bit.

Sam decided to take it from there. "The bodies have been here a while. You don't have anyone over the age of seventy working here, do you?"

"Uh...no. No, I don't think so. I'd have to double-check, but I can't think of anyone off the top of my head. Oldest we have here is our M.E. And he's just sixty-two."

"Good, good," Sam nodded. "We'll need to see him."

"The M.E?"

"The latest body," Sam corrected, looking down at the notebook in his hand. "Mr. Narsi Kuykendall," he told him.

"Right. Okay, I'll take you back there. Dr. Adair is out to lunch," he said, getting up from the desk as he grabbed a set of keys and began leading the brothers down the long hall.

"Kinda late for lunch, isn't it?" Dean asked.

"Eh, we've been kinda busy, with all the commotion."

"Commotion?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean, briefly.

"Yeah, Mr. Kuykendall's daughter was here, going on about a monster having killed him," he replied.

"A monster, huh?" Dean asked as they stopped in front of the morgue door, waiting for it to be unlocked.

"Yeaaah... Some of the Cherokee people here have some...odd beliefs. She wasn't actually home when her father passed. But her nine year old son said he saw something hovering over his grandfather, sucking the life out of him. Kids these days have such imaginations," he shook his head. Sam shook his head, dismissing the fact that the man wasn't far from having been a kid himself. "Here he is; number twelve," he gestured toward the refrigeration doors that lined the wall. "Lock up, on your way out, would you?"

Sam nodded to him and waited until he left the room to turn to his brother. "So we've got a witness."

"A nine year old kid who was left home alone with his dying grandfather. Yeah, real reliable," Dean retorted as he opened the stainless steel door and grabbed hold of the drawer to pull it out. Sam grabbed the papers from on top of the sheeted figure and began to skim through them, as Dean glanced over the covered body.

"Says no dissection was performed during the autopsy," Sam said, after a moment.

Dean narrowed his eyes, a bit confused, then pulled the sheet down a bit to reveal the man's chest. "And how, exactly, do they know his heart's missing?"

"X-rays," Sam told him, flipping to the copied pages and handing them over.

Dean glanced over the image, briefly. "You said there were three bodies like this?" Sam nodded. "How do they know their x-ray machine isn't just malfunctioning?"

"The other two were cut open," Sam replied.

"And they happened when?"

Sam was silent for a moment before replying, "Twenty-two years ago..."

Dean's eyes shot to his brother's, "What? Sam-"

"Come on, Dean. It's obvious there's something to this. Something supernatural, and it's been happening for a long time."

"Three people, over twenty years apart..."

"I think there's more," Sam countered. "I looked into it, and all three victims were Cherokee Indians."

"And?"

"And...this town is pretty heavily populated by that people. And normally they wouldn't allow an autopsy of any kind," he explained. "The two that _had_, were under different circumstances; ones that prevented their families from having much choice in the matter."

"And no one reported the missing hearts; took it seriously enough that it would've been looked into?"

"They probably figured it was some strange tradition the families carried out before they could get to the bodies. They have cleansing rituals...I'm sure law enforcement back then didn't really understand much about it."

"Okay," Dean shook his head, not really wanting to accept the explanation, but moving past it for the sake of time. "So you think there's more, but that no one knows about it because they don't do autopsies?"

"It's possible."

"And this dude is here, why? I mean, if his daughter has these 'strange Cherokee beliefs' like whatshisface out there says, shouldn't this guy be in the ground by now?"

"I guess that's something we'll have to ask _her_..."

Tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

_**Previously...**_

"_And this dude is here, why? I mean, if his daughter has these 'strange Cherokee beliefs' like whatshisface out there says, shouldn't this guy be in the ground by now?"_

_ "I guess that's something we'll have to ask her..."_

_**Now...**_

**Tefft-Kuykendall Residence**

"Can I help you?" a dark-brown haired woman in her mid-forties answered the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam smiled, cutting off Dean's preemptive plan to flirt. He pulled out his badge, ignoring his brother's look of annoyance, "I'm Emmett. This is...this is Dr. Cogburn," he gestured to Dean. "We're with the CDC. Are you Kali?"

"Yes, I am," she looked worried. "What's this about?"

"We were hoping we could talk to you and your son...about what happened to your father."

"Pardon me, but...what would the Center for Disease Control need to know about my father?" she asked, almost stubbornly.

"Actually," Dean stepped a bit in front of Sam, "We're more interested in disproving that this incident is a CDC matter, so you can get your father's body back and put to rest," he told her.

Kali looked at him for a long moment, then pushed open the screen door, gesturing for them to come in. Once Kali turned away from them to lead them inside, Dean threw a quick smirk in Sam's direction, before following after her. Sam shook his head, and followed as well.

"Raj is next door with a friend," she told them as she sat on the couch. "My son," she clarified. "He's terrified of this place, now. He's been staying with my older daughter, ever since."

"Why is he afraid of this place?" Sam asked, as he and Dean sat in the smaller sofa across from her.

"He was here when my father..." she hesitated to say the word, eyes drifting a bit. "He's afraid...that the thing that killed my father will kill him, too."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Tefft?" Dean asked.

"It doesn't matter," she replied, shaking her head. "You won't believe me, just the same as everyone else."

"Kali," Sam scooted forward a bit on the sofa and looked her in the eyes. "What is it? I can promise you that we'll listen, no matter what it is."

"You'll think we're crazy. They all do," she told them.

"Give us a chance," Dean said, a soft, friendly smile gracing his features.

Kali's eyes darted between the two of them, skeptically. "Fine," she sighed. "I left that night. My father's medicine had run out. I wouldn't have waited so long to refill the prescription, but we didn't have the money. My check finally cleared the bank, so I left Raj here with my father. The drug store is only five minutes away, after all. I just...didn't want to leave my father alone.

"When I got back, Raj was standing in the doorway of the bedroom," Kali's eyes grew distant as she recalled the incident. "He wasn't moving; didn't answer when I asked what he was doing. He just...stared straight ahead, yet at nothing, at the same time. It was as if his eyes were unfocused, but all-seeing at the same time..."

_That Night..._

_ "Raj, what are you doing?" Kali asked, as she approached her son. Once in front of the door, she looked into the bedroom, following Raj's line of sight. Right away, she could tell that her father wasn't breathing. "Father?" her voice squeaked as she tore into the bedroom and to his bedside. Frantic, she checked his pulse, finding nothing. "No no no...No, this can't be! No!" she cried, then turned to her still unresponsive son. "Raj, what happened?" she asked, blinking the wetness from her eyes. That's when she realized that he wasn't even looking at his grandfather, but over him..._

Present Time

"That's when I realized," she continued, "Or rather I remembered..."

"Remembered what?" Sam asked.

"When I was a young girl," she told them, "My great-aunt was keeping me for the weekend. She died the day before my parents came to pick me up," her gaze was distant again.

"I'm sorry," Sam told her, sympathy written on his face.

Her eyes met his. "My mother told me I didn't speak for days after they found me; that I was just staring at the body, eyes wide and red. And I supposed my mind had blocked it out, at that point. But then...then the nightmares came. That's when I remembered what I had seen."

"What'd you see?" Dean asked, shifting in his chair.

She shook her head, as if trying to find the right words. "It's hard to explain, because no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't see it." Dean glanced over at Sam, quirking a brow, before Kali continued. "But if I looked away, just a little, it was there. Have you uh... Have you ever had someone take your picture, without you knowing, just out of your line of vision? You know how the light from the flash makes a greenish splotch? And it's there, but you're not actually looking straight at it, and no matter how much you try, once your eye goes to find it, it shoots away? That's what this was like.

Except that if I was looking directly where I knew it was, I couldn't see it at all. But if I looked away just a hair, I could see it. A...figure. A dark...thing, hovering over her..."

"Like... floating?" Dean asked, receiving a glance from Sam who thought he was patronizing her.

"Maybe. I'm not sure," she replied. "But it was at least standing over her, and her life was... It was like the Grim Reaper, only...I don't believe it was her time." She looked up, then, glancing back and forth between the brothers, "And I am so far from believing that it was my father's time, either. What Raj told me, however vague his description, it was the same." She watched as the brothers glanced at each other again. "You don't believe me," she shook her head.

"We didn't say that," Sam countered. "We just...have an idea of what this might be."

A moment of confusion and something akin to hope flashed across her face. "Really?"

"If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to take a look upstairs," Dean requested.

"Of course," she told them, standing. Her eyes darted around as she was amazed that someone was actually looking into what she'd explained. "I don't know that there's anything to find, but you're welcome to look. Do you need anything?"

Sam turned to her, though Dean continued toward the stairs, "Just for you to see if Raj would be willing to speak with us."

"I'll see what I can do," she told him, and Sam gave her a small, appreciative smile, before turning to follow Dean.

Once he caught up to him, he saw that Dean already had his EMF reader out and aiming up the hallway. "Anything?" Sam asked.

"Not yet. What are you thinking this is?"

"Sure sounded kinda like a reaper to me," Sam said. "But it doesn't fit. The living can't see reapers."

"And they don't take hearts," Dean added. "Not part of their routine, unless they've upgraded to creepy 2.0."

"Doubt it," Sam shook his head as they entered the bedroom that seemed to be the old man's. Sam looked around the room at objects, knickknacks and art, keeping a sharp eye open for cursed objects or anything of the sort, as Dean scanned with the EMF reader.

"Man, I'm gettin' nothin', here," the older brother said after a few moments. "Maybe this thing is broken."

Sam narrowed his eyes at that, reaching into his suit-coat pocket to pull out his own. "Well, either they're both broken, or yours is working as well as mine," he said, after scanning a bit around the room. "I'm gonna check the two rooms to the left. You wanna get the bathroom?"

"Is this the favor?"

"What?" Sam was confused for a moment, until he realized what Dean was referring to. "No. Dude, I can get the bathroom and you can take the two rooms. I don't care."

"No, it's fine."

"You sure?" Sam raised his brows. "I didn't realize you were afraid of bathrooms all of a sudden."

"I'm not afraid of bathrooms!"

"Then why on Earth would you think that would be the favor I'd call in?" he gave him incredulous look.

"I dunno... I don't like not knowing what you're gonna make me do."

"Dude... Just go scan the bathroom."

"Bossy," Dean shoved past him out of the room. Sam shook his head, partly amused, and a bit disbelieving. He resumed scanning as he walked out into the hall and to the next room. If not for the tiny bed, he wouldn't have been able to discern that this bedroom belonged to a child. Everything was very neat and orderly; no toys or action figures in sight. The walls were lined with Native American historical documents and posters, and even the bookshelf was filled with literature far advanced for the boy's age.

"Anything?" Dean asked as he entered the room.

"No," Sam replied, slightly startled at his sudden presence.

"This the kid's room?"

"I think so."

"Doesn't look like a kid's room."

"I was thinking that," Sam replied. "Even the _books_ are in alphabetical order."

"This is so what your room woulda looked like," Dean quipped. "Ya know, if we'd had rooms."

"And yours woulda looked something like that dumpster I was in yesterday," he retorted as he looked back at the books.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I still haven't checked the other room."

"Well, while you're doin' that, I'm gonna go see if the kid wants to talk."

As Dean made his way back down the stairs, he noticed Kali outside through the storm door, talking to her son on the porch. Once Dean reached the bottom, Raj turned his head to look at him. Then so did Kali, before turning back to look at the boy. Dean watched as Raj nodded, and Kali motioned with her head for Dean to come out to the porch.

As he exited the house, Kali went back inside, giving them some privacy. "Hey there, Raj," Dean gave the small kid a smile. "Guess your mom told you I wanted to talk to you." Raj nodded. "You wanna sit down?" Without an answer from the boy, Dean led them to sit on the top step of the porch.

"What do you wanna know?" Raj asked.

"Just want you to tell me exactly what you saw the night your granddad passed away," he replied. "If that's okay with you." Raj looked down at his feet. "It's okay if it's too hard."

"It's not that," the boy countered.

After a moment of thought, Dean replied, "I know there are some people that don't believe you-"

"They think I'm making it up," Raj looked up at him. "My friends. They think I'm lying."

"Well they don't know anything. Sometimes when people can't explain things, they get scared. They don't wanna believe you. But hey, I promise you, kiddo, I won't think you're lying. Okay?"

Raj sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, as he studied Dean's face...

Tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

_**Previously...**_

"_They think I'm making it up," Raj looked up at him. "My friends. They think I'm lying."_

_ "Well they don't know anything. Sometimes when people can't explain things, they get scared. They don't wanna believe you. But hey, I promise you, kiddo, I won't think you're lying. Okay?" _

_ Raj sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, as he studied Dean's face..._

_**Now...**_

**Back at the hotel...**

"He didn't feel the room get cold," Dean explained to his brother, as he paced the room. "No flickering lights. No noises. I don't think we're dealing with a spirit."

"That much was kinda obvious."

"But he _did_ say he got this weird feeling, right before he went back to the room."

"Weird feeling?"

"Like goosebumps, and feeling creeped out."

"Before he went back to the room?"

"That's what I said."

"Well that narrows down pretty much nothing," Sam cocked his head. "Unless he..."

"Has some kinda freakish ability, like you had?" Dean finished. Sam pursed his lips, a flash of something akin to feeling offended and possibly a pinch of apprehensiveness, twitched over his features. "I thought about that," Dean admitted. "But it's probably a hint at what this thing might be. Like lights flickering right before a demon appearing, or it getting cold when a spirit is about to show up."

"So," Sam stopped and cleared his throat, "We should be looking into what? What creature puts off energy that gives you the heebie-jeebies before it appears?"

"Well, that and the missing heart thing."

"I've actually been thinking about that," Sam told him. "Remember that case in Chicago, where Meg summoned the daeva?"

"Who could forget that?"

"That girl's heart was missing."

"Yeah, but that was something Meg had them do; made it look supernatural to draw us in. Besides, those things ripped their victims to pieces. These people are just missing their hearts, as if they just evaporated from their chests. Also why we've ruled out werewolves."

"I don't think _that_ one even popped into my head, actually."

"Exactly."

"I have no idea where to start," Sam told him. "This is really kinda weird."

"Actually, I had this odd thought today," Dean began, before taking a seat at the table and opening up the take-out bag they'd brought lunch back in. "You know those old Twilight Zone shows we used to pick up in the hotel rooms late at night when we were kids?"

"Yeah," Sam furrowed his brow as he sat down as well, grabbing a wrapped sandwich from the bag.

"Remember that episode with the shadow man?"

"I thought that thing strangled its victims and lived under little kids' beds."

"It was a TV show, dude. They don't get everything right. And Raj is a little kid."

"So I suppose the other details they left out of the show, were the missing hearts and the fact that you can't actually see the thing unless you're not really looking at it..."

"I'm not sayin' it's the same thing, Sam. I'm just sayin' it's something, as opposed to the nothing we have right now."

Sam suddenly got a thoughtful look on his face. "Shadowman lore, or rather shadow _people_, according to believers, are seen flickering on walls and ceilings in the viewer's peripheral vision. But as far as I remember from what I've read about it, there's never been a reported attack."

"You've actually read about this stuff?"

"You're actually still surprised that I've read things?"

"Touch e. That aside, you're thinkin' I could be right?" he smirked.

"I'm thinkin' your idea has a valid, albeit vague possibility of pertaining to this case, even though your idea came from a television show made in the 80's, and not any actual facts," he countered, a slight smile curving the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah yeah. Well, I might've just saved us a whole lotta research time."

"And pointed us toward a whole lot more," Sam countered. "We've gotta figure out if there's a way to kill it, if this is what it is."

"You're tellin' me you don't already know?"

"I'm not a walking encyclopedia, Dean."

"I doubt this would be in the encyclopedia," he retorted. "And sure you are! You're just missin' a few volumes here and there."

"Funny," Sam huffed.

"_I_ thought so," he grinned, then took an overly-huge bite out of his burger. "So, ya think a flare or something would work on this thing, like it did on the daeva?" he asked around a mouthful of food, though if anyone else but Sam had heard him speak, they'd not have been able to interpret it. Sam was a pro at understanding the many languages of Dean. Drunk Dean, tired Dean, concussed Dean; he knew them all. Stuffed-face-full-of-food Dean was something he'd known a lot longer than the rest.

But it didn't stop him from scrunching his nose at his manner-less brother. "The flare just held them off," Sam said, then reached into his bag that hung on the back of his chair, and pulled out his laptop. "But I'm not really sure how to track this thing, if we do come up with a way to try and get rid of it. It doesn't give off a reading for the EMF. There wasn't any sulfur in the windows..."

"And for all we know, it could be another decade before it pops up again," Dean added. "Yeah, I thought about that. But if we can figure out what we're dealing with, maybe there's a clue where it's coming from. If we can find where it goes when it's done with its victim, we can go from there."

"Maybe," Sam sighed and waited for the laptop to boot. They continued to eat in comfortable silence; Dean examining the sandwich in between each bite, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, and Sam wiping his hands on a napkin in between bites, never looking away from the computer screen as he avidly searched for information.

"Think I found something," the younger brother said, right as Dean shoved the last of his meal into his mouth. "There's nothing concrete about killing these things. But there are some theories out there in these forums. The one that seems feasible is a photon based directed-energy weapon."

"Like a...like those things on Star Trek?"

Sam scrunched his brows for a moment, but then thought about the question and smirked, "Actually...sort of. Yeah. Except this wouldn't hurt a person. There's no electrical charge to it. It'd basically be a glorified laser pointer."

"And this would kill a shadow man?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "If it's ever been tested, there's no documentation that I can find."

"So you wanna build a proton pack like in the Ghostbusters movie... We both get one, right? Might have to resort to crossing the streams," he smirked.

"No, it's not proton, it's... Ya know what? It doesn't matter," he decided.

"How exactly are you gonna build this thing, again?"

"I'm not," Sam replied.

"Aw come on, Sammy! I was just messin' around," Dean furrowed his brows.

"I'm not gonna build it, because there's someone near by that's already working on a prototype," he met his brother's eyes.

"Well isn't that convenient."

"Not when the website this forum is on is run through a physics major in Dodge City," Sam replied. "Apparently, he's organized a sort of underground paranormal investigation club for students going to the local community college. This forum is where they hold their meetings."

"You know what this sounds like," Dean cocked his head, skeptically. "Freaking Ghostfacers. What was that website they had back then? Hellhounds lair?"

"They may be amateurs, too, but they might've stumbled onto something useful. Besides, _we_ don't exactly know what we're doing with this particular case, either."

Dean raised his brows at that, but couldn't argue with Sam's point. "Guess we're goin' to Dodge City."

"Actually," Sam said as he closed his laptop, "I was thinking I'd go alone."

"No way."

"It's a college campus, Dean. I think I can handle it," he argued. "I'm just going to pick up a glorified flashlight, remember?"

"And why do you gotta do that alone?"

"I don't. But...we're kinda running low on funds."

"Are we?" Dean quirked a brow.

"Prepaid the room, remember? Plus, the last case kinda tapped us out."

"Hey, you're the one who got all generous with the coroner's assistant," Dean pointed out.

"He wasn't gonna let us in without a bribe."

"You gotta start out smaller with those people, Sam. You slap a hundred bucks in their hand, they're gonna know you got more where that came from."

"I figured it'd be enough to skip the bullcrap," Sam weakly defended, knowing he'd been mistaken to think that, in hindsight.

"That's your problem, Sammy. You give people the benefit of the doubt; always thinkin' the best of them. It's why you're disappointed all the time."

"I'm not disappointed all the time," he furrowed his brows.

"Sure you're not," Dean shrugged. "So you're sayin' I need to stay here; go hustle some pool?"

"There's a billiard place a couple miles up the road. We've got enough to top off the Impala's tank, get you a cab to and from the bar, and get breakfast in the morning."

"What about dinner tonight?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping you'd have that taken care of by the time I get back. And you'll probably need our breakfast money to bet with."

"You're makin' me start with twenty bucks?"

"You'll have at least five hours before I get back," Sam assured.

Dean looked a bit grumpy for a moment. But he thought about it, and Sam watched as his brother's face relaxed and formed a small smile. He realized that Sam really did have that much faith in him. And even though Sam would never be able to admit to it out loud without Dean giving him a chick-flick speech, the exchange of momentary smirks said all they needed to convey it. _"I believe in you, Dean." "Thanks, Sam. Love you, too, kiddo."_

Tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

**10:40pm**

Dean glanced at his watch as he waited his turn at the billiard table. It had only been a couple of hours since Sam had headed off to meet the physics kid, and Dean was already up by two-hundred bucks. He'd started out playing darts with some younger dudes trying to impress their girlfriends. He almost felt bad taking their money not just once, but twice. Each of them paying twenty the first round, then double or nothing the second. They'd been trying so hard to impress those girls. But Dean could spot a spoiled brat a mile away. Those girls were sitting at a booth talking smack about their so-called boyfriends, and Dean looked at the whole thing as if he'd done the guys a favor by making them look bad.

He _did_ buy them each a beer, though, in the end. No reason for them to have a completely wasted night, after all. Turned out they were pretty nice guys and Dean was totally right to have saved them from what would've ended up being a disastrous couple of relationships. They ended up leaving after that beer, and the girls didn't even give them a lift back home. Poor dudes had to hop the last public bus for the night. If Dean hadn't needed to raise more funds, he'd have given them a lift, himself.

Now, Dean was in the middle of a high-stakes game of billiards. Well, high-stakes for this place, anyway. He wasn't even hustling these guys, either. They knew Dean wasn't bad at pool. But they were cocky and arrogant, and thought they could win. So the winner would leave with six-hundred bucks. This, of course, was including the bets going around the bar. The winner would get a share of the entire pot, in addition to the initial bet between the two players.

Anthony, Dean's opponent, was a big dude. Like, linebacker-big. His head was clean-shaven, and every inch of the guy screamed that if he lost, Dean would probably have to hightail it back to the hotel just to avoid the possibility of the guy being a sore loser. Normally, Dean wouldn't be very intimidated by that. But there were about a dozen other fairly muscular dudes betting on Anthony to win, and they'd probably all end up just as pissed if he let them down.

"Come on, Tony," Dean casually cajoled from where he stood. "You've been linin' that shot up for five minutes, now."

"I'll shoot when I'm damn ready," he replied, shortly, then pulled the cue back to make his shot. Dean bit the inside of his cheek, and right as Tony went to hit the cue, a hacking cough from the bar made him scratch the table and knock the cue into the side pocket. "Damnit, Jack!" Tony turned to his buddy standing to his right. "Getcher dang uncle outta here, before I knock that damn luck out his chest like it's been tryin' to get out all night as it is!" As Jack scrambled to comply, Tony continued a long strand of curses joined together that would've released the steam of ten frustrated men. And everyone stayed clear of his little area of pacing, including Dean. Though mainly, Dean was trying to interpret what, exactly, Tony had just said.

Dean had looked over at the old man at the bar, though, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that he'd seen the guy when he first came into the bar earlier that evening, and he'd been coughing then, too. Like most of the older men in the bar, Jack's uncle hid no sign of his Native American blood as far as appearance went. He and another man, probably closer to Jack's age who was sitting at the other end of the bar, were the only two Dean recalled seeing in the place since he'd arrived that were still there now.

"It's your move, Chicken," Tony called, pulling Dean's attention back to the game.

"It's _Rooster_," Dean corrected.

"Whatever, Chicken," Tony laughed, glancing around at his friends, encouraging them to join him.

Dean shook his head. He couldn't _wait_ to kick this guys ass, and then kick it again later when he tried to get his money back...

.

Sam cut the Impala's engine once parked in front of their room. He'd texted Dean from the road, asking if he'd need a lift back to the hotel from the bar, and Dean had replied that he was already 'home'. Sam hadn't questioned further, since he'd only been a few miles out.

Grabbing the flimsy duffel from the passenger seat, Sam made his way out of the car and to the door to the room, key ready, and let himself in. Dean was propped back against the headboard of his bed, a set of chopsticks digging into a carton of low mein, which paused mid-motion as he looked up to greet his brother.

"Dinner just got here a few minutes ago," Dean told him. "I got you that chicken you like, and some of those cheese rangoon things."

Sam got a pleasantly surprised look on his face as he tossed the duffel onto the bed and made a bee-line to the paper bag on the table. "You musta won pretty big," he commented as he pulled out the containers to find the ones that were for him.

"Even managed to keep it all, too," Dean proudly added, though something in his voice gave him away.

Sam looked over at him and did a double-take, dropping the containers back onto the table as he rounded the bed to get a closer look at the forming bruise on his brother's jawline. "Geez, Dean..."

"C'mon, Sam," he shrugged Sam's probing hands away from his face. "It's nothin'."

"What happened?"

"Sore losers' what happened."

"Didn't take kindly to being hustled, I take it?"

"Oh, no. No hustling was involved," Dean explained. "The guy and his gang of fellow brainless idiots were all just really sore losers."

"Gang?" Sam got an incredulously worried look on his face, and he began searching Dean for other injuries.

"Figure of speech – g'ah!" he squirmed when Sam touched his side where his ribcage began, and shoved Sam away a little harder. "Would you just lay off?"

"You're hurt!"

"Guy got a few punches past me, that's all," Dean defended. "I'm fine. Been icing it since I got back. See?" He pointed to the ice bucket on the dresser beside the TV. "I just now took some ibuprofen for it, too. Was waiting till the food got here."

Sam's face scrunched a bit, regretting having made Dean not only stay behind, but hustle money out of people, without backup in case of something like this happening. "What happened?"

"Like I said, sore losers. I walked outta there to hail a cab, and they tried to jump me. Landed a few punches on me before I could turn around and lay them out. Not a big deal, Sam. I've had a lot worse, okay?" he explained, calmly, knowing this look of brooding that Sam now carried, and what it meant that he was thinking. "Stop with the face, man. This isn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have sent you alone."

"What're you, my dad? I can take care of myself. Pretty sure I did, too, thank you very much. So just stop it. It's nothing, Sam, but if you're gonna be this way, then it's just makin' things worse."

Sam's face registered indecisiveness for a moment, before giving in with a nod, and turning as if it pained him to head back over toward the food.

"Man, if it bothers you so much," Dean told him, "You can make that the favor I owed you." Sam looked back at him, seeing the small smirk on his brother's face. "It _was_ kinda like dumpster-diving, but for cash. The one guy that clocked me? He went to the bathroom twice during the game. I don't think he washed his hands either time."

Sam wasn't sure he wanted to let go of the favor. But once the bruise on Dean's chin caught his eye again, he resigned to the idea. "Fine. We're even."

"There we go," Dean smiled. "See, now we both feel better," he said before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. "That the light-gun thing?" he asked around his full mouth.

"Yeah," Sam tossed him the bag before grabbing his food and taking a seat at the table. "But I'm not so sure it's gonna help."

"Why not?" he asked as he pulled the strange contraption from the bag.

"Well first off, the energy source only lasts sixty seconds at a time before needing a recharge. Secondly, we have no idea where or if this shadow thing is gonna strike again."

"Mm," Dean lifted a finger to point to the laptop on the table, as he swallowed his noodles so that he could speak. "I was thinkin' about that, too. And I thought about what you'd said about people not realizing how many victims this thing was leaving behind. So I went back and checked out the obits for those other victims you talked about. Turns out, out of those few they autopsied, they all lived

within a three-mile radius of each other. Guess how many other elderly men kicked it that month." Sam cocked his head, awaiting the answer. "Eight."

"Eight other people died and no one questioned it?"

"Eight other people within the same three-mile radius," Dean added, "And no one questioned it. They figured it was some sorta virus their bodies weren't strong enough to fight off. "

"Guess that'd make more sense than monsters," Sam shrugged.

"Especially when monsters aren't even on their list of possibilities," Dean agreed. "That aside, I looked into it and Kuykendall wasn't the first old man on the block to kick it this week." Sam's brows raised as he waited for Dean to continue. "Literally three doors down, seventy-two year old Jack Nandan died of what the family believes was a heart attack, in his sleep. Lived by himself. They didn't find him til the next morning."

"You think it was this shadow thing?"

"I don't see why we should rule it out. They didn't allow an autopsy; body was never removed from the home until they decided to bury him."

Sam thought about that for a while, as they both went back to eating. After a few moments, and the polishing off of the rest of his chicken, Sam decided to boot the laptop back up. Dean halfway paid attention as Sam started typing and clicking on several different pages; some of which Dean had visited earlier. He watched as Sam started doing this little thing with his fingers that meant he was doing math in his head.

Dean was finished with his meal before Sam started talking again. "Four days," he said with exasperation.

"Huh?"

"Four days in between each death," he continued, an incredulous look on his face. "I can't believe no one picked up on that," he shook his head.

"Picked up on four days between Kuykendall and his neighbor?" Dean quirked a brow.

"And between the eight deaths that happened twenty-two years ago," he told him. "Coroner-stated time of death for each victim places them each four days apart. Each of them dying sometime in the middle of the night."

"Well wait," Dean looked to the side for a moment. "Kuykendall kicked it...three nights ago. You think it's gonna strike again, tomorrow night?"

"If it's following the same pattern, yes."

"How are we supposed to know where to look?"

"I'm not sure," Sam replied in a quieter voice, his eyes darting around a bit in thought, before he turned back to his computer. "Ya know...maybe there's something to that show, after all. What you said about the shadow man living under a kid's bed? Kuykendall's grandson lived in the house with him. How much are you willing to bet the neighbor was living with a grandkid or two, himself?" he looked back to Dean.

"And those other people, back then," Dean caught on. "It's a long shot, but it's the only lead we got, right now."

"We've got less than twenty-four hours to find someone that fits the MO."

"Awesome," Dean replied, unenthusiastically.

Tbc...


	7. Chapter 7

**8:00pm Outside the Walker residence...**

"Tell me again how we're supposed to get in the house in time to use this thing?" Dean asked his brother who sat in the passenger seat beside him.

"I'm not exactly sure, yet. I'm working on it," Sam replied.

"How are you working on it?"

"I'm thinking!"

"Might wanna hurry that up. Kali left her house the night her father was killed, right around this time."

"Look," Sam nodded his head toward the house, and Dean looked to see a man and a young boy exit the house. Mr. Walker, the elderly man they were there to try and protect if necessary, stood in the doorway waving them off. Sam noticed a nasal cannula on his face, hose leading to an oxygen tank sitting beside him in a pull-cart.

The boy had a backpack on his shoulder, and the man beside him was holding a sleeping bag. "I'll be back in twenty, Dad," they heard him say, and watched as they piled into the car and pulled out of the driveway.

"Well," Dean glanced to his brother. "Guess we should just, uh..."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. They got out of the car, Sam hiding the proton device under his jacket, and headed to the now-closed front door.

"So...what? We just...tell him?" Dean asked in a hushed voice.

"What else can we say?" Sam shrugged, then reached out and knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened a crack. "Mr. Walker?"

The old man eyed Sam for a moment. "Who are _you_?"

"I know this is gonna sound strange. But we're here because we think you might be in danger," Sam told him.

Walker narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment. "From the thing that killed Nandan and Kuykendall?" he asked. Sam's brows rose and he glanced over at Dean. Walker opened the door a little more, catching his first glimpse of Dean. "_I_ know you," he said as he opened the door wider.

"Me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. You're the guy that knocked around Tony and the lot of idiots at the bar last night," he pointed to Dean. "That was damned entertaining, let me tell you." Dean got a bit of a smug grin on his

face. "I was afraid they might land you in the hospital, at first. But boy were they surprised when you turned around and handed their asses to them!" he let out a laugh, which immediately turned into a hacking cough.

That's when Dean realized who the man was. "Oh yeah. I remember you. You were sitting up at the bar. You okay, Sir?"

"Oh yeah," he coughed again, clearing his throat. "Night air messes with these old lungs. Not that they're doin' too well as it is. Come on in, boys. Don't wanna stand here with the door open."

They followed Walker inside and closed the door behind them. "Was that your son and grandson that left the house just now?" Sam asked.

"Son-in-law," he corrected as he made his way to a recliner in the middle of the living room. "He's taking my grandson to stay at his mother's house tonight. I didn't want him to be here, in case I'm next, you know. Ain't good for a child to see those things. Kuykendall's grandson, you can see it in his eyes; it's changed him."

"Mr. Walker, do you know what this thing is?" Dean asked as he took a seat on the couch across from him.

"No. Not really," he replied. "I've heard the stories. And it ain't the first I've heard of it happening. Now I ain't one to believe in monsters. But when it keeps popping up for over twenty years, it's hard to ignore."

"You were here when this happened twenty-two years ago?" Sam asked.

"I've been here my whole life. But it started then. I didn't think it'd end; thought what everyone else did. Thought it was a virus killing off the elderly in the neighborhood. Read about the deaths, and thought it'd never end. But it did, and I thought it was over. And then...well, Nandan I hadn't thought much of it. But after hearing Raj's story, I knew. I knew it was starting again."

"You knew both of the victims fairly well?" Sam asked.

"We've all been here our whole lives," he replied. "We grew up together. Our parents grew up together. My father and uncles built this house. Most folks around here can say the same of theirs. They stay in the family. Once I go, it'll go to my daughter, and one day to my grandchildren." He got thoughtful for a moment, and watched as the brothers glanced at each other in silent conversation. "You think this thing has got something to do with that?" he asked.

"We're not sure," Dean replied. "But we think we've got a way to kill it."

"And you wanna let it try and come for me, in order to do that," Walker surmised.

"I don't think there's any other way," Sam told him.

"We also don't think it'll try anything while you're not alone," Dean added. "So we're gonna go into another room. You just do whatever it is you'd normally do."

"If that thing kills me, and my son-in-law walks in and sees you two standing here..."

"We're not gonna let it kill you," Dean told him.

"Well...either way," Walker told them, "Make sure you kill the damn thing. Now go on into the den. David said he'd be back in twenty, but that usually means an hour, with him."

Sam nodded to him and turned toward the room Walker indicated, Dean following behind him as he left the living room. "Things always go so much easier when we don't have to spend a lot of time convincing people we're not nuts," Dean said, quietly, as they entered the den.

"There's something really weird about this," Sam said, eyes darting around in the air.

"I know, right?" Dean replied as he glanced around the room. "It's like this room hasn't been updated since the seventies."

"What-" Sam took a very quick glance around the room, then turned an incredulous eye to his brother. "Dude, I'm not talking about the decor. I'm talking about this thing we're hunting. I don't understand its reasoning in choosing its victims. I mean, why the elderly? And why take their hearts?"

"C'mon, Sam. Monsters don't always have logical reasons for what they do. It's instinct. And in nature, the predator will always go for the weakest prey." Dean watched as Sam seemed to take that into consideration. But suddenly he felt goosebumps forming on the back of his neck, and it made him shiver. He realized Sam had gotten them, too, and it only took them a moment to realize that this was their warning that the creature was in the house.

With a quick glance, they took off toward the living room. Sam had the proton device in hand as they approached. Sure enough, Walker seemed to be in duress. But neither of them could see the creature.

"Where the hell is it?" Dean shouted. Sam shook his head, but then remembered what Kali had told them. He looked a little to the side of the space above Walker. Sam was surprised at how strange it felt to see the thing out of the corner of his eye. But the shock only phased him for a moment, and then he was aiming the weapon and firing.

Trying to remain looking off to the side proved a bit difficult. The creature hadn't been much affected by the weapon. But it seemed to stop what it was doing and look over toward the brothers. It made a strange sound and suddenly changed into what could only be described as a ball of fire, and suddenly it was gone.

"Did you get it?" Dean asked.

"I hit it," Sam replied. "But I don't think we did much but piss it off."

"Walker?" Dean crossed the room to check on the old man.

His eyes were wide and searching when he met Dean's. "What in the hell _was_ that?"

Dean looked over at Sam, then back at Walker. "Not what we thought it was..."

**Outside, in the Impala...**

"Well now what?" Dean asked as he impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I dunno," Sam told him. "I have no idea what the hell we're dealing with. There's nothing about this in Dad's journal. But whatever it is, it might come back. So we should probably stick around."

"And do what, if it _does_ come back?" he asked. "It just doesn't make sense," Dean said, frustratedly. "It doesn't give off any EMF readings. So it's not a spirit, even though everything I saw back there screams that that's what it is. I mean, this thing is taking out a specific group of people who all happened to know each other. If that doesn't say vengeful spirit, I dunno what does."

"Then again, a spirit wouldn't have taken off like it did. Not without iron or salt involved. It almost seems like it just took off because we walked in on it."

"Whatever it is, it's pissin' me off," Dean grunted, right as Sam's cell began to ring in his pocket.

"That's weird," Sam's face scrunched a bit as he fished the phone out of his pocket. "Who would be calling..." he looked at the caller ID and Dean watched as a surprised expression flitted over his brother's face. "Jody?"

_"Please tell me that's you and Dean sitting in front of Ian Walker's house," _the Sheriff's voice sounded on the other end.

Sam looked over at a curious Dean, before glancing outside each window of the car, "Are you in Oklahoma?"

_"Yes I am. I didn't realize you'd already picked up the case."_

"What are you doing here? Why...how do you...what case?"

_"Did you stop the thing?"_

"We...we scared it off. Jody, what do you know about all this?"

"Dude?" Dean questioned, and Sam threw up a hand, telling him to hold on.

_"It probably won't try to come back tonight, then," _she told him. _"Do you have a room somewhere I can follow you back to? Or are you squatting in another house?"_

Tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

******AN: So...I'm gonna plug something here. I just published my first book this week. Go to Amazon and search for Version 2.0 by C.M. Adams. Check it out and lemme know what you think :)**

***~.~***

**Back at the hotel...**

After a couple reunion hug-greetings, Jody Mills followed the Winchester brothers into their hotel room. "It's really good to see you boys," she told them.

"Good to see you, too," Sam replied for them.

"How is it that you knew exactly where to be tonight?" Dean asked her. "How long have you been in town, and why didn't you call us before you knew we were already here?"

"It was a time thing," she told him. "I wasn't sure what you might be in the middle of, and as soon as I found out, I knew I needed to act pretty fast. I thought I could handle this on my own, when I first headed out."

"What is it we're dealing with?" Sam asked. "And how is it that you know?"

_**Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, SD. 24 hours ago...**_

_ Sheriff Jody Mills had been going to Bobby Singer's shambles of a house every couple of weeks since his passing. Well, since she'd helped out Sam in finding Dean, anyway. Her intentions had been to clean everything up and out and maybe try and rebuild; bring back a piece of something that was really the only inanimate thing on the planet that still made you think of the man. Granted, even in its current state, it did that. But that wasn't the point. _

_ She missed Bobby something terrible. There was so much left unsaid; so many things she wished that she'd done when it would've mattered. Helping him, for one. It had been thrilling to help out, and it had made her feel like that was her place. Like Bobby would want her to be helping the boys. And she knew how much Bobby loved the Winchesters, like they were his own. It made her love them, too. _

_ So her mission had quickly evolved into trying to learn whatever she could through the salvaged items she had slowly been collecting from the debris. The collection, she admitted, was quite small in comparison to what used to line the walls of this place. Jody had found a dozen books that weren't completely destroyed, on the ground level. There were jars of things that she couldn't quite identify. Though the labels could be closely analyzed if she had the proper equipment. _

_ Today had been the first day in a three-day weekend off of work. She'd been at the house all day, and had officially finished the ground floor. It was then that she realized that she could get into the basement; that the stairs hadn't been too awfully licked by flames. She was still cautious while descending them, though. _

_ There was this strange creaking noise coming from somewhere down there. She pulled out her flashlight and pointed it around the dim lower level. The sound was almost as if a cricket had made its way in, where nothing else could. And that's what she'd thought it was for a moment or two, until she realized that the sound was too precise in pattern. She began to follow the noise, and it led her to a large iron door. Unhooking the latch wasn't too difficult, but her heart was racing, still, with not knowing exactly what in the hell might be in this next room._

_ Jody pushed the door, standing back as it opened with the typical horror-movie screeching of metal. She aimed her flashlight around the entire room before entering. "Okay, yeah," she said to herself. "No way I'm going in there without a lot more light." She turned with intention to go back up to her vehicle, but spotted several lanterns on what used to be a functional work bench. Somehow, they'd managed to escape the flames. Most of the basement had, really. _

_ Jody picked up one of the lanterns and turned the self-lighting knob on the side. When it glowed to life, she smiled. "Bobby, you're still my hero."_

_ Within five minutes, the panic room as she had come to figure out was its purpose, was lit up with every lantern she could manage to find. She traced the sound which, now that she was in the room, was more like a beeping, to a locker. A locker with a lock on it. An obstacle that was a mere time setback, as there were some bolt cutters out on the work bench._

_ Jody made quick work of the lock and pulled open the locker, backing up as if she'd expected bats to come flying out of it. Instead, she found it to be stacked with books and small boxes. She was actually kind of thrilled. Bobby had managed to save another small portion of his library and whatever was in these boxes. And whatever was making that incessant beeping noise. She set out to find its origin before attempting to look through everything in the locker. _

_ Books were pulled out, hurriedly, and placed on the table beside the locker, until she came to a cigar box that was obviously housing the culprit of the sound. She carefully pulled the box from the locker and walked to the table with it. Hands on the lid, for a fleeting moment, she wondered if this thing would explode if she opened it. _

_ "If this thing kills me, I am so kicking your ass on the other side," she said toward the sky, before looking back down at the box and carefully lifting the lid..._

**Hotel...present time...**

"There was an old watch, somehow rigged to go off at least a few days before I ever found it," Jody explained. "And newspaper clippings from over twenty years ago, and then some from over forty years ago. All of them surrounding Hooker, Oklahoma. And this," she handed a small notebook to Sam, which he opened to the first page, immediately recognizing Bobby's handwriting.

"Bobby's handwriting," Dean confirmed over Sam's shoulder.

Jody nodded, "He'd been researching it, apparently."

"He put all of this together, and never said anything to us?" Sam furrowed his brows.

"Give 'im some credit, Sam," Dean defended. "I'm sure he didn't think he'd be dead. That and obviously he figured out there'd be a long waiting period before this thing started up again."

"He planned on being here," Jody told them. "Trip is all planned out in the back of that thing." There was a sad look in her eyes. "So I decided to do it in his place."

"You never considered calling us?" Dean asked, a fraction of annoyance in his voice.

"Actually, I did consider it. Especially after I crossed into the city limits."

"Do we even know what it is? Does the book say how to kill it?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Jody took the book from Sam and started flipping through it as she sank down to sit on the edge of one of the beds. Sam sat down beside her as Dean paced. "But he did say that he was pretty sure it had something to do with the Cherokee presence in the city. He was on to something, but it seems like he didn't have the time to dig further into it, when he'd discovered all of this, which seems perfectly understandable."

"Understatement," Dean mumbled. He stopped his pacing when he saw Sam's 'thinking' face. "What is it?"

"I don't..." his sentence tapered off as he headed for his laptop at the table and pulled it out of hibernation. Jody and Dean both headed over, curious as to what Sam was doing. He began typing and clicking away, and within moments, his face muscles relaxed and morphed a bit into what Dean had come to know as his 'I should've known' face. "Of course," Sam shook his head. "I can't believe I didn't consider the Cherokee connection."

"What'd you find?" Dean asked.

"If you Wiki shadow man, there's a link to this blog. '_Raven Mockers are the most feared type of witches of the Cherokee people. Raven Mockers are a form of vampiric-witch that sucks the life from its victims, as well as consumes human hearts',_" Sam read and then looked up at Dean.

"So we're dealing with a witch," Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder. "Explains why no EMF readings. But I've never seen a witch do that kinda stuff."

"By day," Sam continued skimming the page and reiterating back to Dean and Jody, "It appears as a normal human being. By night, it can transform into a ball of fire or light and then roam the land in search of its victims."

"But this one looks like a shadow most of the time," Dean mentioned.

"Can't have a shadow without light," Sam shrugged.

"What else does it say?" Jody asked.

"Uh..." Sam scanned over the page some more, "Raven Mockers also have the ability of invisibility and flight."

"This sounds more like a DC comic book villain than a witch," Jody commented.

"Any way to kill it, mentioned in this thing?" Dean asked.

"It says the easiest way to kill it is to recognize it in its human form."

"Well...that should be easy, right? This thing is at least a hundred years old."

"But it might not necessarily look it," Sam said. "It says when the Raven Mocker consumes the heart of it's victim it automatically absorbs the remaining years of that person's life. Because of this, Raven Mockers are near immortal."

"So this thing could be anyone in town," Jody said aloud.

"And it could be anywhere," Sam added.

"Well that's just awesome," Dean sighed. "Anyone up for a beer? I could definitely go for a few. And possibly taking my frustrations out on a few douche-bags. I know a place with plenty of both..."

Tbc...


	9. Chapter 9

**The Bar/Billiard Place...**

"See any of those douchebags you were talking about earlier?" Jody asked before taking another sip of her beer.

"Actually, no," Dean replied, listing slightly. "Might've ended up in the hospital," he grinned.

Sam looked at his brother with a bit of amusement and surprise. "Dude, are you...drunk?"

"Maybe," he replied. "_Feels_ like I'm drunk. Do I _look_ drunk?" he raised a brow.

"You've had like three beers. Last time I saw you even get a bit tipsy was after an entire bottle of brandy or something in the beer-for-douchebags office."

"Yeah," Dean smiled in reminiscence. Then he met Sam's eyes again, "This is weird, right?" he looked at the label on his beer bottle. "What kinda beer is this? I need to start getting this kinda beer..." he listed dangerously to the side again, and Sam caught him before he could hit the floor.

Eyes scanning the room, Sam's jaw clenched, worriedly. Jody tried to help steady the older brother. "What's going on with him?" she asked.

"I dunno," Sam replied. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone drugged his beer." Jody's eyes widened right before she began scanning the room for any suspicious eyes as well.

Dean chuckled in Sam's grasp, "Could've been one of the dumbass's butt-buddies, tryin' to get revlen...revreng...rev...tryin' to get back at me. Ow!" Dean twisted away from Sam's arm, and the younger brother looked to see what was wrong. Dean was holding onto his chest again, where he'd said he'd been hit the night before.

With a worried glance, Sam looked to Jody, "Can you make sure his face doesn't hit the floor, for a minute?" She nodded as Sam stood.

"Don' wanna mess'up th' money maker," Dean grinned as he slurred, then went to take another sip of his beer.

"Dean!" she slapped his hand and grabbed the bottle from him.

"Aw..." he pouted. "Sam..." he watched his brother stalk up to the bar and grab the bartender by the shirt. He was yelling something and the bartender seemed pissed to have been manhandled so easily, yet submissive because...well, Sam was kind of intimidating. Especially when it came to matters involving Dean's well-being. Dean watched as the bartender pointed to the far end of the bar. To the _empty seat_ at the far end of the bar... Then Sam huffed, seemed to apologize, and then came back to the table.

"We're leaving," he told them, and helped Jody stand Dean up.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"He said there was a man at the end of the bar that paid for one of your beers," Sam told him. "Conveniently, he left about five minutes ago."

Dean looked back over at the empty seat again, as he was walked toward the exit. He'd seen someone there earlier. He'd seen someone there last night as well. Same guy, possibly, though his mind was a bit fuzzy at the moment...

He must have momentarily blacked out, because suddenly he was jolting awake in the hotel room. By the time the ceiling came into focus, the realization that someone was poking around his ribcage became painfully clear. "Son of a bitch!" he grunted as he struggled in vain to sit up.

"Calm down, Dean," Sam told him, moving his hands away from the injury and leading his brother to lay back down.

"How about you stop being all handsy, and then I'll calm down."

"This is bad," Sam said, ignoring the comment as he continued his examination of the massive dark bruise that covered a large percentage of Dean's chest. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."

"It's not that bad. It's just a bruise. No broken ribs or internal bleeding. And I _did_ tell you about it."

"You didn't tell me it looked this bad," Sam countered. "And you could have some bruised ribs or torn cartilage. This should be wrapped." Both heads turned toward the door as it opened.

"Ice, and the first aid kit from the trunk," Jody said, kicking the door closed behind her. She brought both things to Sam and sat down beside Dean. "Feeling any better?"

"Head feels less like it's under water. Ribs feel like crap, though, with Nurse Nancy here prodding around."

"I'm trying to help you, Dean," Sam argued. Dean groaned and laid his head back down on the bed. He was annoyed, but didn't really have the grounds or the energy to argue with Sam. Seeing that his brother was surrendering, Sam opened up the first aid kit in search of some gauze bandaging. "Now, did you see the guy at the end of the bar, by any chance, before he left?" Sam asked him.

"I dunno. Maybe," Dean replied. "My head might still be a bit foggy. I can't remember if it's just last night I'm thinkin' of, or if it was actually the same dude."

"Did _you_ see him, Jody?" Sam asked.

"No," she shook her head. "But there was an older gentleman sitting at the bar a little closer to us. He never did look over, but I'd bet my best horse the guy was Cherokee."

"You have horses?" Sam cocked his head.

"No. But if I did, I'd bet my best one."

Dean snorted a laugh. "I must still be drugged, because that was actually pretty funny."

"Alright, come on," Sam held a hand out for Dean to grab. "Sit up so I can do this..."

Tbc...


	10. Chapter 10

"Thanks," Jody told the bartender as he set a cup of coffee down in front of her.

"Sure you don't want the breakfast special?" he asked.

"I'm still thinkin' about it," she winked at him. The bar was like a completely different place during the day, she'd concluded. It could almost pass for a family restaurant, if there weren't a few stragglers from last night working off their hangovers in the far end of the place. "So um...you always work the day shift?" she asked the bartender.

"Lost a bet," he smirked at her. "Usually we split the shifts; one week on day, one on night. I lost a pool game and had to take on two weeks of day."

"So you've been on nights before."

"Yes, ma'am. Kinda wish I'd been here last night, actually," he got a bit of a sad look on his face.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"That seat you're sittin' it, that was Danny Rodgers' seat for almost as long as I've been here. He was here last night," he told her, and instantly she remembered whom he was talking about. "They found him this morning. Died in his sleep. He was a good ol' man. Wish I'd gotten a chance to talk to him one last time."

"I'm really sorry to hear that. You must be pretty close to the regulars."

"You could say that," he gave a small smile.

"Well maybe you can help me out. I was in here last night, too, and there was this guy sitting at the far end of the bar over there. I wanted to go and talk with him, but I turned away for one minute, and the next I looked back and he was gone. Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

"Old Rocky, you mean?" he cocked his head.

"I wasn't sure what his name was."

"He's in here every night. Every one I've been here anyway. And I've been workin' here for nearly twenty years. Guy never misses a night. He's sure to be here tonight."

"Well see, thing is," she thought fast, "I'm leaving town today. I just...really really wanted to talk to him before I left," she gave her best little lost girl face, leaned over the bar just a bit more, and watched the bartender's eyes shift nervously to her cleavage and then back up to her eyes.

He cleared his throat, "Um...Rocky, he uh...he lives out behind the golf course. I uh...I had to drive him home one night. Big ol' creepy lookin' house that's probably been there since the beginning of time. It's secluded though, at least. He likes it that way. And he might not be too happy I told you where he lives, so if you do go out there, don't tell him it was me that told ya."

"Don't worry. I'll tell him I followed him home," she winked. "Thanks for the coffee," she stood as she swallowed one more mouthful of it and set the mug back down. 

**.**

Dean was practically laying out the window in the backseat passenger side, sunglasses being the only thing in Sam's way of telling whether or not he was asleep.

"Doin' okay back there?" Sam asked with a slight grin.

"Just peachy," he replied. "Except that The Village People are doing a pow-wow version of YMCA in my head."

"That was a nice little reference."

"Ya think so?"

"Yeah. Very appropriate."

"Thanks. I thought so, too."

"Behind the golf course," Jody said as she suddenly entered the passenger side front seat. She pulled the door shut once she was in. "His name is Rocky."

"Rocky's a dog's name," Dean groaned from the back seat.

"It's probably not his actual name," Sam said as he started the car.

"There's something else," Jody told them, and looked over at Sam. "The man I said I'd bet my best horse on? He's dead. They found him this morning."

"Son of a bitch was watching him from the corner of the bar," Dean said through clenched teeth. "That's why he was there. He stalked out Walker the same way."

"The point is that he's upping his game," Jody interrupted. "He's not waiting anymore. And if he drugged you so you wouldn't get in his way again, then he knows we're close."

"Drugging me is what got him discovered," Dean countered.

"He probably didn't think we'd realize you were drugged," Sam interjected, shrugging as he drove and glanced in the rear view at his brother. "If it'd been anyone else, I'd have just thought they were a lightweight."

"Let it be forever remembered that my partnership with alcohol has finally come in handy," Dean proclaimed with a hand in the air, then let it flop down onto the seat.

"You gonna be good to take care of this thing right now, Dean?" Jody asked, turning around in her seat to look at him.

"I've done a lot more in a lot worse shape," he smirked at her. "All I gotta do is basically go ID this guy, right? Piece of cake."

"Yeah," Sam replied, trying to hold back the slight skepticism. "Piece of cake..."

It only took about five minutes to find the golf course, and another ten to get through the traffic and around the back-road that led them up to the secluded house. They parked a little ways back, just out of sight behind some trees, and set out on foot to approach the decrepit looking building.

The house was a few stories high; an old Victorian-style house that would be beautiful had it been taken care of for the hundred or so years it'd been standing. Creeping vines covered the paint-barren structure on all sides they could see as they walked. The windows on the side of the house were broken and boarded up. The others were blacked out with a variety of materials that didn't much pass for curtains. The stairs leading up to the front door were cracked, and the railing nearly absent altogether.

"Should we knock?" Dean asked as they cautiously ascended onto the rickety porch. Sam shrugged, looking a bit uneasy. Jody looked a bit like she wished she'd stayed in the car. Dean decidedly reached out and knocked on the door.

After a few moments, a voice sounded on the other side of it. "Who is it? What do you want?"

Jody, suddenly letting go of her anxiety and letting common sense take over, replied, "I'm looking for Rocky...? My name is Jody, and I was wondering if we could talk."

They all shared nervous glances, at the long silent moment. Then the latch could be heard being opened, and the door opened halfway. "Jody who?"

"I saw you at the bar last night," she said. "My friend just had something he wanted to say."

Rocky stepped a bit out into the light, turned to see Dean, and his eyes widened a fraction. "What do _you _want?"

"First off," Dean started, "Thanks for the free buzz. Secondly, I know what you are. I know you've been killing people for about a hundred years or so. I know it's how you keep yourself alive." Rocky backed up a bit, readying to close the door, but Sam put a hand on it to stop it, and both brothers started to walk into the house, following Rocky as he continued to back away. "I also know that you can change into this...shadow thing; that you take people's hearts. And that-" he stopped when the temperature suddenly dropped dramatically.

Sam, Dean and Jody looked around the room from where they stood. There were sigils and symbols on the walls, different types of crystals all around the room, and some items none of them were familiar with. This all aside from the strange witchdoctor-like items that lined the shelves and tables.

"You got the AC down awfully low," Dean commented. The corner of Rocky's mouth twitched into an eery smile for a moment, and suddenly there was a loud screeching noise coming from all sides of them. Dean felt himself lifted and tossed, pushed right back out the front door.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, and Jody ran out after him. Sam turned to Rocky with a murderous look on his face, ready to attack. But then he, too, felt himself lifted and thrown, just missing landing atop of Dean. All three of them looked to the doorway to see not just Rocky, but several spirits. One of them belonging to Narsi Kuykendall; Raj's grandfather...

.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" Dean yelled, frustratedly, as he cradled his jarred ribcage, as Sam drove them toward the hotel. "I thought that'd kill it."

"I think it said something about it taking some time," Sam told him. "Like he's gotta wear out. He won't be able to feed anymore, so I'm guessing he'll start the natural aging process, but probably really really fast."

"Well what about the vengeful spirits?" Dean asked. "Shouldn't they be vengeful, like...against witchy-asshat-dude-that-ate-their-hearts, instead of us?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam shook his head. "I didn't get a very good look around, but I feel like there were some elements in that house for trapping spirits there. Rocky is a powerful witch. It's possible that he's somehow discovered a way to...enslave them, or something."

"Great. Just great," Dean winced as he repositioned himself in the seat. "So _now_ what do we do?"

Sam glanced over at him, then back to the road, "Guess we've gotta figure out a way to destroy whatever he has in there that's keeping them locked up."

"Even if we figure that out, how are we gonna get in there to do it? There's way too many of them, and far too few of us."

"You're gonna have to give me some time to figure it out, okay?" Sam replied, frustratedly. "I know as much as you do on this."

"Guys?" Jody piped up from the back seat. "Why don't we just...burn the place down?"

Sam glanced at her in the rear view mirror. Dean looked over at his brother, "Is she being serious? I can't turn around to see her face. Is she serious?"

"Why is this not an option?" she asked, defensively. "Fire should destroy anything and everything in there. There isn't anything within a mile of his house, and then just a golf course at that point. And Rocky...well sure he's still alive right now, but it's not like we're gonna get to him any other way, and it's not like he's human anymore. He's over a hundred years old...Maybe more than that. He can turn into a shadow. He eats people's hearts! Old people! I think it'd be in clear conscience!"

"It's not exactly inconspicuous," Dean countered, glancing at his brother again, who remained silent in thought. "Dude?"

"She's right, Dean," he said. "I don't think there's another way."

"And as far as inconspicuousness goes, there were peace pipes all over that house," Jody told them. "Not to mention all kinds of other really weird stuff. I'm sure whatever investigation happens, there's bound to be plenty of flammable stuff to take the blame, right in his own living room."

"Yeah, well...we'll just need to get the hell outta Dodge before anyone makes the connection that we were asking around about him," Dean stated.

Sam glanced at him momentarily. "Thought you wanted to stay put for the rest of the week, even if we finished early?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I'm not happy with this solution?" he pouted and looked out his window.

Tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

**9:30pm. Rocky residence...**

Jody's car parked behind the Impala, the three set out with the cover of night, toward the house. It really was secluded. So much so, that the only light was coming from the cloudless night sky full of stars. There wasn't even a road in view of the area from afar. Dean felt a little more at ease about the getaway plan, now.

Gas cans in hand, the three split up and started to douse the foundation of the house all the way around its perimeter. They made fairly quick work of it, meeting back at the front porch. Sam pulled out the matches, striking several, and threw them down on the wet earth beside the house. The flames were surprisingly quick to ignite.

Dean turned to Jody, placing a hand on her arm, "Go! We'll call when we're out of here."

"But-"

"Get outta here!" he yelled, and the brothers turned to observe the fire, as if making sure it stayed lit and would destroy it all.

Jody hated to leave them, but Dean was right. She needed to get out of there, probably worse than they did, as she was the one who'd specifically asked where Rocky lived. Dean only turned away from the house when he heard Jody's car crunch the gravel as she made a fast U-turn.

"You think it's strong enough to get inside and destroy all of it, before the fire department gets here?" Sam asked. Dean seemed to give the question some thought, and come to an internal conclusion. He turned around and headed back to the car. Sam watched as he opened the trunk. He hadn't expected his older brother to pull out the rocket-launcher. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?" he asked with raised brows.

"Thought this might be more fun," Dean smiles, mischievously.

"Dude, what happened to trying to be inconspicuous?"

"Ah c'mon, Sammy," he let out a small laugh, in protest. "We never get to use this thing." He continued with pleading in his eyes, but Sam stood firm, a brow raised to indicate his seriousness. "Fine. Then go back in the trunk and get the molotovs," he told him.

Sam nodded and turned to start heading to the car. Dean waited maybe fifteen seconds before turning to take aim on the house. He smiled with excitement, then fired dead on through the second story window. In last-minute panic, he realized that the two of them were probably a bit more close to the house than they should be. He dove toward Sam, knocking the both of them to the ground. Within the same moment, the explosion erupted behind them.

Sam, who had been confused at first by the tackle, looked back at the house which was engulfed in flames all the way to the roof, and billowing with thick, black clouds of smoke. He spotted the launcher on the ground several feet away, and turned his face toward his older brother who was staring at the destruction with a look of child-like glee.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Sam asked in a bit of a scolding tone.

Dean turned to Sam, none of the amazement leaving his eyes, "Hell yes, I did!"

"Good. 'Cause now we should probably hurry the hell out of town, before your childhood-dream-come-true, gets us thrown back into prison."

"Killjoy," he smirked, pushing himself up to stand, then helping Sam up as well. "Ah!" he winced at the momentarily forgotten pain in his ribcage. "Damn, I think I felt somethin' snap," he doubled over. Sam caught him as he started to list to the side, and helped him to the car.

"I'll have to check you out when we stop, Dean. Think you'll be okay for a little bit?"

"We've gotta make sure everything's taken care of..." Dean protested.

"We've gotta jet, before someone sees the smoke, if they didn't already hear the explosion. Dean, we did everything. It's done."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved him off as he maneuvered his way into the passenger seat. "Grab the launcher."

.

**1 hour later. Somewhere along US 54...**

"Hey, Jody," Sam said into his phone, keeping his voice down. They'd stopped twenty minutes earlier so that he could check Dean's ribs, rewrap, and give him some good painkillers. Dean had finally passed out around five minutes ago curled up on his side across the back seat.

_"Well what took you so long?" _she asked, her voice mixed with annoyance and relief at the same time. _"I was starting to think you'd been caught and hauled downtown."_

"Sorry. Dean re-hurt himself a little. We had to stop."

_"Is he okay?" _all anger gone, replaced with concern.

"Yeah, I think he's gonna be alright. Nothing's broken. But I'm sure it's painful to keep jarring those ribs."

_"How did he do that again?"_

"Eh...there was...an explosion. He tackled us down to avoid getting hit with anything."

_"I thought I heard something as I pulled off the main road. I should've called..."_

"It's okay. Really. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

_"Yeah. Stopping here in a bit to get a room. The adrenaline was fine for a little while, but it's like a cup of coffee laced with a ton of sugar; I'm starting to crash."_

"Then you should definitely stop. Hey, thanks again for everything. I don't know how long it would've taken us to figure it out, without your help."

_"Well, thank Bobby, wherever he is,"_ she said. The statement caused a sudden burst of unexpected sadness in Sam. _"Are you planning to stop anytime soon?"_

"Ah...probably not," he cleared his throat. "The adrenaline lasts a little longer for me. I'll probably just drive straight through."

_"Where ya headed?"_

"Not sure yet," he told her, which was a white lie.

_"Let me know when you get wherever that is?"_

"As long as you promise to let us know next time you find something in Bobby's stuff," he grinned.

_"Consider it done."_

"Great. Thanks, Jody. We'll be in touch." He ended the call and let the phone plop into the seat beside him, glancing back to check on his brother. Sam felt a bit guilty about their not being able to take the rest of the week in Hooker, OK. Now Dean likely needed a little more than that, even. But Sam had a plan. He was just hoping he'd be able to make the drive before Dean woke up and figured him out...

.

Dean had stirred, around sunrise the next morning. Sam felt a little bad that he was grateful his brother was too sore to do more than pathetically beg Sam to pass him the Vicodin and a bottle of water. At the same time, he hoped he wasn't so bad off that he wouldn't be able to somewhat enjoy where he was taking him.

It wasn't until a little after four in the afternoon that Dean was pulled from his sleep by the cutting of the Impala's engine. He felt groggy and a bit sore, but no where near the amount of pain that laid him out in the back seat in the first place. "Mm...Sam? We stoppin'?" he asked.

"Yeah. We're here, man."

"Where's here?"

"Why don't you get up and see for yourself?"

Dean groaned, "Really gonna make me get up?"

"Dude, you've been asleep for like eighteen hours. Yes, I'm gonna make you get up. You'll thank me later."

"Eighteen hours?" Dean was already pushing himself up. "What the hell..." his sentence tapered off when he looked out the windshield. His eyes widened almost comically like a kid at Christmas, and for a moment, he couldn't remember how to form words. "Dude..."

"Yeah?" Sam smiled.

"Are we at the freaking Grand Canyon?"

"We're at the freaking Grand Canyon," Sam let out an amused laugh.

"No way," Dean moved to open the door, and made his way out onto the gravel. "No way..."

Sam got out as well, closing the door behind him. He followed his brother to the safety fence. "I felt like a jerk that you got hurt, after I kinda forced you out of taking a break. So...I wanted to bring you someplace you could relax in style."

"You _are _a jerk," Dean nodded, then turned his head to look at him. "But you're also the best little brother in the whole damn world."

Sam's grin grew. "Yeah, well...I've got a pretty great brother, too." Sam couldn't remember the last time he saw Dean genuinely happy about something. He wished he could make it happen more often. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Sam looked out into the vast formations of scenery. "But hey, this is your vacation. No chick-flick moments after this."

Dean let out a laugh, and Sam looked back over at him, "Bitch."

Sam snorted, and returned the endearment, "Jerk."

~End~


End file.
